Haunting Me
by Lilybet
Summary: First in the Haunting me series. Losing him was hard, saying goodbye is harder. GW Angst. Oneshot


**A/N: I know it's been done before, but I felt it needed to be done again, don't hate me.**

**Setting: After it's all over.**

**Disclaimer: The wonderful world of Potter belongs to no-one save those with copyright. That would sadly not be me.**

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The trees cast shadows in the moonlight. Their leaves rustle in the light wind which has chased the clouds from the sky. The moon hangs in the starlit night, large and pale, unnoticed by the sleeping people in the village below.

The church spire catches the light, the cross on its peak pinpointing the place where sorrow lies. It seems to speak into the night. Here, it says, here is where you come to mourn those you lost. Here you will find the comfort you so desperately desire.

Movement below the trees. Not the wind this time. A person walks the well trodden route round the church. He does not see the light on the cross; head bowed. The burden of sorrow on his shoulders clear for all to see. He seems lost, yet his feet find the path. His hand reaches out to the gate as the wind swirls his cloak around his frail form.

Passing between the old stones; guardians of the long dead, he makes his way to the new marbles. The silver light catches these as it does not the others. They are moss covered and crumbling, the grass obscuring the names of those who passed so long ago. The names on the new stones stand out like the moon in the black velvet sky. The man walks down the long row, too long. The dates a sad testimony to the short lives lost; the ones buried beneath had to say goodbye to the living world so soon after saying hello. The man's head does not lift as he passes them by. Not even those he counted as friends make him hesitate in his steady pace.

Not the last of the row, yet the man stops, turns. Looking at the stone before him, the name deeply carved upon it, tears begin to work their lonely way down the grief stricken face. This visage will never lose the pain it carries now. Too much damage has been done; too much has been lost for the pain, the grief, to ever fully fade.

Only memories now remain of the one who is lost. They sustain the man, yet they will destroy him if he cares too much. If he never learns to laugh again. He know this deep in his heart, he knows that this will be the last time he comes here. He can't keep hurting those around him by coming here. Yet still he cannot leave him behind. He must do this one more time. Only the moon listens to the words tumbling from him as they have so many times before.

"I keep thinking you're going to walk through the door, the bell ringing overhead, piles of ingredients in your arms. You'd smile at me, at the thankful expression on my face, with the laughter in your eyes that tells me that I'm being stupid."

A sigh filters into the air,

"I wish you would speak to me, tell me that everything's going to be alright. You always made the shadows flee when I was scared. You'd whisper at night, when you knew that I wasn't sleeping, you'd tell me stories or just talk about the ideas you had for the next day, the next prank. You loved to plan those late at night. Curled up on one of our beds we'd work out the details, the masterminded schemes. Never letting anyone else join us then, you'd keep those first ideas, the ones that would work, and those that didn't, to yourself."

Lost in memories now the man has closed his eyes. He does not see the clouds slowly cover the moon.

"I miss the way you'd come to me first, with your ideas. The smallest things that could ruin a whole day of school for someone. The combinations of spells that would reek havoc on a classroom. You were the smart one. Everyone always thought that we were both primary pranksters, but it was you all along. You had the inspiration, I only made it possible. Yet you would never let me say that, you'd insist that I got as much praise as you.

You protected me when the world we knew fell down around us. You were the one who decided it was time to move on. To leave all we knew and make it on our own. I just sorted out the details; where to get the materials, where we would live, how we would make it. You wanted to bring laughter to the world. I found a way to let us live whilst living your dream."

The anguish perfectly portrayed, a stone angel's tears are the only response. Only the darkness listens as the moon's light is hidden.

"When we left, when the time came for us to leave all we had known, you made me follow. I couldn't have done it alone, without you I would have stayed. You've always been there to look after me. You told me that we couldn't stay, that she would make us leave anyway. That we should go out fighting not on our knees. You made me believe in the dream.

So why shouldn't I think that you're going to come through that door." A flash of anger sweeps over the freckled face, vanishing as swiftly as it comes. "With the next idea in your mind; the poetry you called it. The poetry of making laughter where none was to be found. You'd make me laugh the whole time with your constant insane propositions. "What if". Those words will always have a different meaning for me. "What if" became the siren's call to a new explosion, a new product, something that would cause smiles and giggles late into the night."

"There is no laughter now. No ringing bell above the door. No ideas, no inspiration.

I can't help but blame you. It was your idea to go. You needed to be there more than me, I felt the need but you had the drive. You made us go. Yet the guilt at that thought eats away at my soul. It can't be your fault. Nothing is ever your fault. You made sure that I would get the praise, but I would shield you from the blame. I'd pretend I was you when you were at fault. I'd never have to comfort you when you couldn't take the punishment; I'd go myself. I keep you safe.

I couldn't keep you safe then. There was nothing I could do. I tried. I ran so fast."

The pain is clear to see, the tears flow freely; no hand to wipe them away.

"Now you're gone. I sit here alone. I will always be alone. The face in the mirror haunts me now."

Finally the words are gone. Yet the tension remains. This time something is different. The wind picks up, as if anticipating the final act. The moon light long since fled, the man whispers into the blackest night; the words he thought he'd never have to say. Yet now he knows that he cannot go on like he has.

"I can't do this anymore. I can't live in the dreams anymore. I must continue, not for your sake but for mine. I can't let it haunt me. I have to live, not two but one. I can't live in the past. I'm sorry you never got to see it. The celebrations, the laughter, the smiles when it was all over. But I did. I will live now, and when it's over I'll rest by your side again. So it's not really goodbye, merely Adieu, brother. Catch you on the other side."

The man turns away, walking into the night. The moonlight breaking through the cloud in one thin beam, highlighting the words on the stone: "RIP Fred Weasley."

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**Keep reading. LB**


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